Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Hello, I'm afraid I've received the wrong delivery today....
Every morning I wake up and am glad for the doing of it.
I mean it is better (maybe) than the alternative. I stretch, hoping for no charlie horses in my calves (farm animals early in the morning are not fun) and try to direct my thoughts as to how I must get my chores, obligations done and what fun I will have with the grands and Sweet Man.
On the days I get the kiddos ready for school, I already know what to expect. But this winter break crapee (french spelling), well let's just say not.
Today I got the wrong children delivered.
You see every morning, the celestial milkman brings me my grands wrapped in warm pink skin, happy and ready to hit the dusty.
Today, I got some snarky little beasties with no brains. I figure that the old inventory just sits on the shelves at the celestial dairy and here at the end of the year, well there a little soured and rancid. I will certainly suggest they do an inventory control and check the expiration dates after this mornings happenings.
Ry forgot his brain back at the storage facility. When I told him that he could have pancakes and then go outside to play in the tiny bit of snow we got and that he needed to go get dressed. What I got was a little boy with his clothes and coat on, no shoes or socks as he sat down to eat. I explained that he needed to put his coat next to the door and while I was making him the biggest pancake he had ever eaten that he needed to get his own glass of water.
The next thing I heard was.....I need a little help here, as the water is pouring down the front of the cabinet and onto the floor. He had swiveled the faucet nozzle over the counter top and apparently had forgotten how to turn the handle to the off position. While I went to rescue the boy from drowning, the pancake burnt to a replica of the Great Chicago fire. Mrs. O'Leary would have been proud.
In the meantime, I hear from across the room, Gosh Ry, why didn't you turn the water off. This from his more than lazy ass sister who is calmly playing with her DS which by the way stands for dumb shit and that is exactly what it makes your child too. When asked why she could not or did not help with her brother's predicament? Well I thought you handled it just fine Oma. Thanks, dumb shit.
Sweet Man came in for breakfast wanting to know what all the hubbub was about. Oh no he didn't. Why yes, he did. Like because I was the loudest I was the wrongest. Oh come on, it's fair. They will be stronger humans for being brow beaten on Winter Break. They will have more to tell their therapists, and guidance counselors and great stories round my wake. Both of the kids were laughing because, well as close as I can figure it, I am at my most amusing while in process of losing my mind. Or as DSGK said we're laughing on the outside, getting ready to run on the inside.
Nice mouth, I wonder where she got that filthy habit?
They are currently outside making nasty mud laced snow balls and having a great time flinging them at the dogs and at each other. They have also invented a new way to torture the dogs by using a badminton racket and making it snow from clumps directly on the soggy dogs. Aren't they cute?????????????? Perfume of the gods, wet dog.
The best thing is that they are safe because I am inside blogging to you. There's safety in Oma's obsession.
ps do you see what those drugs Willow has to take do to a St. Bernard????? She just lays around the snow and waits for a call for help (yodeling and monk robes swishing in the background for effect). Sweet Man has started calling her Fat Elvis, poor dog and no I do not fix her fried banana and PB sandwiches, it's the phenobarbital, I tell ya. But just to be safe, I'm keeping her out of the bathroom.